


A Dalish Elf in Lady Montilyet’s Court

by Ponaco



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Antiva, Antivan Crows, Dalish Elves, Eventual Smut, F/M, Intrigue, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponaco/pseuds/Ponaco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Trespasser.<br/>The Inquisition disbanded, its members scattered across Thedas Inquisitor Thale Lavellan heads to Antiva City. A trip filled with courtly intrigue, mysterious Crows, and the most daunting task of all, meeting Josephine's family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read this silly story, hope you enjoy my grumpy, little Lavellan rogue :0)

This wasn’t his first time on a ship. He remembered that voyage from his childhood with nothing short of disdain. The leaky ferryboat lurched and bobbed in the Kirkwall harbor as he lost his lunch over the side and his cousin laughed at his misfortune. The Montilyet trading vessel was far grander in every way a ship could be. The crew hurried about, the family crest emblazoned on their uniforms and representatives from the House of Repose stood silent sentry over the cargo. An almost comically elegant cabin room waited for him upon boarding and an over-zealous servant, Maurice attended to his needs, both actual and assumed. It was the most luxurious travel the sea could afford and yet it still turned his stomach and tinted his skin green with every gust of wind and roll of the waves.

He came very close to taking the journey by land. A trip alone on the back of his trusty dracolisk would take longer, but save him the indignity of a sea voyage. Slight hints to this in letters to Josephine were met with florid descriptions of her family’s trading fleet and their flagship vessel in particular. The pride in her words stood bold and bright on the page through every elegant pen stroke. How could he say no to her? As he gripped the bucket in his lap like a life-line and emptied the last remnants of his stomach Thale wished he had.

“Lord Inquisitor, the Captain places our time of arrival within the hour. Oh Dear, sick again? Let me get you some water, m’lord.”

Thale didn’t have the time or energy to correct the man over the misuse of his former title as another wave of nausea washed over him coming with it a fear to open his mouth. The months following the Exalted Council passed in a blur. The formal organization of the Inquisition disbanded, its members scattering to their respected homelands across Thedas. The entire thing left a bad taste in his mouth and he looked forward to the possible future where he could look back on his time with the Inquisition with something besides anger and resentment. Josephine’s journey back to Antiva only further soured his mood. If a week of nausea was what he needed to endure to see her again he would without a second thought.

“Would you like to change your clothes before we arrive at port, m’lord?” Maurice asked, pressing a glass of water into Thale’s hand.

Thale took a careful sip of water and more time than necessary to respond to Maurice’s obvious suggestion shrouded in a question. “There is nothing wrong with the clothes I’m wearing,” he said, taking another sip of water before swishing it in his mouth and spitting into the bucket.

“No, no, of course not! I didn’t mean to imply that, m’lord,” Maurice said, holding up his hands in defense. His eyes traveled over the yellow and brown plaid sleeves peeking out from under Thale’s deep red cloak. “I simply…it’s a special day. Perhaps something more…formal would fit the occasion.”

Giving Maurice a hard time stood as the only enjoyable part of the sea voyage to Antiva. Even after his time in the Inquisition the doting of others made his stomach squirm with suspicion. The bows and curtseys acted to hide disingenuous smiles and thinly veiled resentment over having to serve an elf and a Dalish elf to boot. The Winter Palace brought such suspicions into the light of day, whispered disapprovals through pinched Orlesian smiles and muffled insults behind gold and silver masks. Maurice, for his part, seemed as genuine as one could be and Thale took a perverse delight in fighting the man’s suggestions concerning proper etiquette at every opportunity. 

“Jo doesn’t care what I wear,” Thale replied with a shrug.

Maurice bristled like a large bird attempting to rid its feathers of water. “Lady Montilyet,” he said around a sharp intake of breath at Thale’s far more casual address of his employer. “Is far too polite to mention anything outright, but I assure you m’lord she will not be pleased to great you, with the entire city watching I may add, if you are dressed as though you chose each article of clothing with your eyes closed.”

Thale slowly raised his right eyebrow and fixed the flustered man with an even stare. The look only lasted a few seconds as a crooked smile broke his resolve and another lurch of the boat had him reaching for his bucket. 

“You had something in mind, I assume,” Thale grumbled once the worst of his nausea passed. “Let me guess, there are ruffles on it.”

“Not…an unnecessary amount,” Maurice replied looking nothing short of guilty.

Thale clutched his bucket tight and tried to will the ocean to stop moving beneath his feet. “I’ll wear whatever you want if it means I can get off this damn boat.”

“The Valor is a ship, m’lord. A boat…” Maurice cleared his throat and stopped his correction at the sight of a heated glare over the brim of a bucket. “Right, yes, I will set out something for you to wear then.”

The offered clothes were not as horrible as he feared. They were clearly made with skilled hands and the finest materials, but refrained from any overabundance of flair or flash. The slight ruffle around the open collar was permissible as Thale never doubted for a moment Josephine had a say in its addition. Maurice fretted and circled around the elf once he was dressed, smoothing out the material along his shoulders and adjusting the cuff that clung to the remainder of his right arm.

“An improvement, an improvement,” he murmured, running a hand through his neatly-kept beard in thought. “Perhaps a hat? I have a marvelous cap with…”

“No,” Thale said, shaking his head and stumbling to his feet, eager to be out of the stuffy cabin. “This is fine.”

“Right, yes, m’lord,” Maurice said.

Thale could practically hear the man grinding his teeth as he followed him up onto the deck. The crew hurried about with a renewed sense of urgency, moving about the deck and high in the riggings overhead. Thale did his best to stay clear, pressing up against the side and shielding his eyes as he stared eagerly towards the horizon. His heart gave an excited flutter in his chest as he spotted land. Antiva City grew with every passing minute.

Squat sandstone buildings and grand palaces vied for space on the sharp inclines of land that surrounded the long, arching harbor. Flashes of gold and blue caught the sun with bursts of light that made the entire city glitter. Spires and impressive towers took shape the closer they moved towards the shore and the shouts of sailors on nearby ships sounded in the distance.

“You may want to put your hood up once we reach the shore.”

The deep voice spoke low beside him where only a moment before there was nothing but air. The tall, silver-haired elf stared out across the harbor, his stern face half-hidden in the shadow of his own cloak. Thale turned toward the man with a sidewise glance. Josephine insisted that he travel with one of the famed assassins but he was beginning to grow weary of the man’s presence. In particular Almael’s obvious belief that Thale was incapable of taking care of his own safety.

“I intended to,” Thale replied, scowling at the quiet scoff of a laugh that met his words.

“Lady Montilyet will meet us beyond the docks and you will ride together the rest of the way to her family’s estate. I convinced her that a more…elaborate greeting could attract the wrong kind of attention,” he said, speaking in that same slow, even tone of voice that only riled Thale’s anger further. “There are still those that would wish you harm.”

“You don’t say,” Thale grumbled.

Almael clasped his hands at the small of his back and stared out across the water. His dark-colored robes stood out like an inkblot against the more colorful attire of the crew; a perpetual storm cloud in an otherwise sunny sky. He stood almost a foot taller than Thale and had the irritating ability to make him feel like an idiot child no matter the situation.

“Have you ever been to Antiva?” he asked.

Thale grit his teeth and pulled his hood up over his head. “No,” he said, knowing full well Almael knew this fact already.

“I was born and raised there.”

“Fascinating,” Thale said, gaining a tiny hint of satisfaction that his interruption caused the old Crow to bristle in annoyance.

“As it where, I know these streets, I know the people who walk them. As you know neither of those things perhaps you shouldn’t dismiss my advice so readily,” he said, his right hand moving to rest upon the hilt of the dagger at his side. “Lady Montilyet contracted me to keep you safe. I intend to do so.”

The sight of Antiva City coming into focus made Thale’s sarcastic reply die on his lips. Flashes of colored awnings stretched between shops and homes that had seemed from a distance a simple mass of tan. Ships of all shapes and sizes crowded the busy harbor amid the bustle and shouts of the myriad of people swarming the docks. The new squirm in his stomach wasn’t from the rolling of the ocean. It was excitement. Somewhere beyond that harbor Josephine was waiting for him. He gripped the edge of the ship and leaned forward into the cool sea air.

“How long will it take to get through the harbor?” 

Thale thought he saw a ghost of a smile flicker across Almael’s face, but the expression disappeared as quickly as it arrived. “It won’t take long.”


	2. Chapter 2

“And you’re certain it was the Valor that pulled into port and not the Prosperity. They sometimes look similar from a distance,” Josephine said, shielding her eyes for a better view of the harbor down below. 

She already asked a similar question before they left the estate and checked the rookery twice that morning to make sure the ship’s ravens arrived. She could plan and make lists and write countless letters to the ship’s captain, but she couldn’t in fact control the tides or the wind and all the planning in Thedas couldn’t make her beloved arrive any sooner. That undeniable fact would not stop her from trying to control the uncontrollable. 

“I had word from the crew itself, m’lady,” Aimad assured her.

The hulking barrel of a man served as the head of her family’s household guard for as long as she could remember. He insisted on accompanying her to greet the Inquisitor and strongly argued against waiting on the docks. Their perch atop the High Street gave an obstructed view of the harbor below and Josephine considered climbing the carriage for a better look. A strong hand rested on her shoulder, holding her in place and not for the first time in her life she wondered of Aimad could read her mind.

“He will arrive soon, m’lady,” he said quietly. “Safe and sound.”

An embarrassed warmth settled on her face and she snapped open her fan in an attempt to blame it on the heat of the day. “I suppose you think I’m being childish,” she said, fanning herself as she tried to will away the persistent blush.

“Not at all m’lady,” Aimad replied. 

A flicker of a smile cracked along the sun-hardened skin of his face and his deep voice ended with a quiet rumble in his chest like a tiny avalanche of rock. Josephine snapped shut her fan and gave him a teasing smack against the shoulder. Another chuckle sounded beneath his leather armor earning him another smack.

“You haven’t seen him in months. I understand your excitement,” he said, his gaze never torn from scanning the street.

“Hmm, why Aimad, I never thought you the romantic type,” Josephine replied, not bothering to hide the new rush of color across her cheeks.

“I am a man of many layers, m’lday,” he said with the slightest of nods.

“I cannot argue against that,” Josephine chuckled, linking her arm through his to keep from fidgeting.

Crowds packed the High Street, a slow stream of people jostling for position among the shouting vendors and opulent storefronts. Each hooded figure or casted shadow caused her pause to search for a pointed ear or the curl of a green Vallasin on freckled skin. A flash of yellow and brown plaid-weave beside a food cart caught her eye and she found herself standing on tiptoes for a better look. Aimad’s grip on her arm tightened and she lowered to her feet, a pout settling on her face.

“Jo.”

The sound of her name was little more than a whisper, a quiet breath amid the cacophony of noise that made up the busy city street. She heard that whisper countless times before in the gray space between asleep and waking only to find the bed empty beside her; a hopeful memory playing tricks on her mind. She half expected to wake up now, to see the city before her swirl into darkness and the toll of bells tear her from sleep. 

“Jo.”

The second whisper ghosted across her ear and her own breath caught in her throat as she was pulled into an eager embrace. She didn’t wake. The ground beneath her feet remained solid and the elf in her arms was very real indeed. She tightened her grip and resisted the urge to squeal her happiness or any of the other myriad of undignified options she briefly entertained in her excitement. She pulled back enough to see his face and leaned in for a kiss. 

“Might want to take a raincheck on the kiss,” he said, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been…sick…a lot.”

The looming shadow of his bodyguard grunted what could have passed for a laugh if you weren’t paying too close attention. Josephine would have put the man in his place were she not busy immediately fretting over Thale. Josephine’s hands framed his face, paler than she remembered, her thumbs circling the bottom of his ears. She turned her right hand over and rested the back against his forehead.

“Sick? Why didn’t you send a raven? I could have brought a healer. Aimad, ride ahead and have the healer meet us at the gate. You feel warm. Do you need to lie down?”

He took hold of her hand and turned it over to press a kiss to her skin. “It’s all right, Jo,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m all right. It was the boat…”

“The ship made you sick?” She asked, her hand covering a tiny gasp. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have sent a carriage or…or you could have come on horseback. I could spare the guards. I could have…”

The sheepish smile on Thale’s face grew into a pleased smile, the likes of which only seemed to appear in her presence. Josephine continued on with an increasingly more elaborate list of all the travel options beyond a sea voyage. Wrapping his arm around her Thale pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin behind her ear. The embrace startled her into silence if only for a moment.

“I missed you,” he whispered, holding her tight. 

Josephine snaked her arms around him and pressed her face into the curve of his neck. The smell of the sea air clung to him, masking the more familiar scent of his skin that she strove to find. She pressed against him, a quiet sigh breathed against his neck as his arm tightened on her waist. She tried to throw herself into her work during the months of separation. If she worked beyond the point of exhaustion sleep would come more readily. She could pretend the hollow ache in her chest didn’t exist, but with him here in her arms, she could no longer deny her need of him.

“I missed you too, my love,” she murmured, taking hold of his face for a proper kiss despite his earlier warnings.

“M’lady, I understand you are…excited about the reunion, but perhaps it would be best if we made our way back to the Estate,” Aimad suggested.

Josephine pulled away, her hand sliding down to take hold of Thale’s, not ready to let go. “Yes, of course,” she said, cheeks flushed pink.

Aimad held the door to the carriage open, never taking his eyes off the surrounding crowd. Josephine reluctantly let go of Thale’s hand to climb inside the opulent carriage. Thale waited until she was seated to climb in, frowning when Aimad closed the door behind him. Even after years with the inquisition, formal balls, trips to the Winter Palace, and a myriad of meetings with dignitaries it took only a swatch of brocade or a hint of gold-leaf to make Thale look entirely out of place. 

“Did Maurice pick out your clothes?” Josephine asked, her fingers tracing the expensive material adorning the collar.

“Is it so obvious?” he replied, giving the collar a less-than-gentle tug. “Feels like it’s choking me.”

“Well, you look very handsome,” Josephine insisted, straightening his lapel and dusting off his shoulders. “Although it is missing something.”

“Please don’t say more ruffles.”

The put-upon grumble brought a smile to her lips. Despite all the pouting and muttered complaints she knew even if it was more ruffles he would relent if she so desired it. She had a sneaking suspicion his want to please her was the reasoning behind his decision to suffer through such an unpleasant sea voyage. It was a dangerous thing; a desire not to be taken advantage of. He had given enough. To her, to Thedas. She would not be the one to take even more from him. If they were to be partners in this life a certain level of compromise was needed on both sides.

“No, not more ruffles. Although, the sleeves could stand a few more…”

“Jo.”

She laughed and kissed the tip of his nose, splaying her hands on his chest for purchase as the carriage rumbled and lurched forward. Sifting through her beaded handbag she pulled a small square of fabric from one of the many inside pockets. Yellow and brown and crossed in a pattern that used to make her crinkle her nose in disdain, Josephine now only smiled at the sight of it. She tucked the small silk handkerchief into the front pocket of his jacket and fussed the corner until it peered out just so.

“There,” she said, leaning against him with a content sigh. “Perfect.”

A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes beneath the green of his Vallasin and flashed in the deep blue of his eyes. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and moved his arm around her to rest comfortably at her waist. The city outside the thin walls of the carriage teemed with the noise and chaos of the everyday; hawkers shouting their wares and arguments over prices swirled with the distant chime of Chantry bells. She wanted to show him all of it. 

“I am so happy you are finally here, my love,” she murmured, the excitement and nervousness of his safe arrival leaving the tense line of her shoulders in the space of a quiet sigh.

“Nothing could have kept me away,” he replied, holding her just a bit tighter.

She knew without any hint of doubt or suspicion that his words rang true.


	3. Chapter 3

Thale ran his hand over the mountain of bubbles piled atop the bath water, popping several and sending others floating across the air. He wiggled his toes through the warm water and leaned back against the copper tub wall and sighed. Eternally grateful that the ground beneath the tub was solid and didn’t lurch back and forth at every turn. If he never made another sea voyage it would be too soon. A quiet knock on the door echoed throughout the tile-covered bathroom, pulling him from the precipice of sleep. 

“Yes?” he called out, not prepared to leave his warm cocoon of bubbles for anything less than a natural disaster or the promise of a certain elven god’s head on a pike.

The door slowly creaked open and Josephine lingered just beyond the threshold, using her hand to shield her eyes. “Is there anything else you need, my love? I’ve set out clean clothes for you. We’ll be taking supper with my family if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I wouldn’t dare miss supper with the Montilyets,” he replied, chuckling as she bumped into the door. “Why are you covering your eyes? Does my current state of undress offend you, m’lady?”

Her face flushed pink and she lowered her hand. “I thought you might like some privacy.”

He held out his hand and beckoned her closer. “Never from you.”

Her blush deepened, but she crossed the short distance to sit beside the tub. Dipping the washcloth beneath the surface of the water she moved the cloth in slow circles along his back and up to his shoulders. A quiet sigh tumbled over his lips as he leaned into her touch. Their months of separation now only a horrible memory. He leaned forward, gently taking hold of her chin to guide her into a kiss.

“There’s plenty of room for two in here,” he murmured against her lips, delighted in the feel of her smiling against him.

“We wouldn’t want to be late for supper,” she said, leaning in for a kiss of her own. 

“Oh, we have nothing but time,” he insisted. “It’s barely later than midday. Don’t you want to give me a proper welcome, Jo? After all, I did endure that horrible journey to be at your side.”

Her laughter rang out like bells, carrying across the warm air to the vaulted ceiling overhead. The sound caused a grin to stretch over his face and settled warmth, heavy and familiar in his chest. She tilted her chin and placed a quick kiss to the center of his forward before coyly sliding out of his reach. He rested his arm on the edge of the tub and placed his chin atop his forearm to watch her, still grinning.

“A proper welcome,” she said, tapping her chin in thought, the slightly wicked glint in her eye making his stomach squirm in eager anticipation. “Well, never let it be said that Josephine Montilyet ever offers anything short of a proper welcome.”

She turned and closed the bathroom door, turning the lock to the sound of a quiet click. As though preparing for something far less tawdry she slowly unfastened the hooks along her wrists, humming quietly as she took her time undoing every snap and button. Her back still facing him Josephine shrugged out of her blouse and let the silken garment pool on the ground at her feet. The many layers of her skirts followed a similarly painstakingly slow disrobing until all that remained were her smallclothes.

“You are beautiful,” Thale breathed, not for the first time in his life wishing he had more of a way with words.

His lack of eloquence did nothing to deter the earnestness and heartfelt meaning behind the simple sentiment. Josephine padded over to the tub and leaned over for a kiss. A squeal of surprise pierced the air as Thale pulled her over the edge into the bath. Water sloshed over the edge amid her frantic flailing. She blinked, the coal under her eyes trailed in streaks down her face and the careful curls of her up-do tumbled down from their gold comb.

“You!” she sputtered, smacking him in the shoulder and splashing water into his face in one fell swoop. “I…how dare…stop laughing!” she said, giving his shoulder another smack, but failing to hold back a laugh of her own.

He sat up and pulled her into a kiss, his arm holding her tight against his chest. The flimsy fabric of her smallclothes turned sheer in the water. The taste of her lips stoked the warmth in his chest into a burning heat, making him desperate for more. The water rolled in time to the movement of their bodies, tiny waves arching up to the curved edge, threatening to spill over. Thale’s hand pressed into the round curve of her hip and the soft swell of her stomach, needing to touch every inch of her. The delicate straps of her camisole snapped under his eager hand and small gasp tumbled over red lips as he lowered his mouth to her breasts.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her fingers ghosting through his hair to trace up the point of his ear until he shivered from the touch.

“I missed you,” he replied, lifting his head to meet her gaze, pupils blown wide from desire. “We shouldn’t be apart. Not ever.”

“Is that a proposal?” she teased, biting back a moan as his hand slid beneath the water and between her legs.

“Would you say yes if it was?”

The hint of shyness that clung to the words shook her from the growing rush of heat from where his fingers met her skin. It wasn’t an emotion she could ever remember hearing in his voice. He was not beyond anger or fear and was more often than not prone to sullen silences, preferring to say nothing when only a snide remark would do. It wasn’t shyness that usually took his words, but an underlying sense that most things were better left unsaid. Surprise must have stood stark and obvious on her face as he took a deep breath and continued before she could form a reply.

“I wasn’t…this is not how I had planned to do things. I hadn’t really planned at all if I’m being honest. I…” he closed his eyes and took another breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of it. “I love you Jo. All I wanted while we were apart was to see you again and now that we are together I never want to leave you…I want to be bonded to you and I know…I know your family has different customs and I am certain I’m not what they had in mind for you…”

“Yes.”

He stopped and his eyes went wide, the tips of his ears twitching at the word he couldn’t be certain he heard. “Yes?” 

“Yes,” Josephine replied, the first whisper growing into an exclamation and frantic trail of kisses that finally met his lips amid an infectious fit of giggles. “Yes, yes, always yes,” she giggled, pressing another kiss to his ever-widening smile. “I was beginning to think you might never ask.”

“I should have…ages ago,” he replied, his grin turning into a sheepish smile. “I was afraid of what you might answer.”

She leaned against him until their foreheads touched. Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as she blinked and framed his face with her hands. “I love you,” she whispered. “I will always love you. We will never be apart. I will be yours for always and you’ll be mine.”

The burn of happiness in his chest panged unfamiliar around every beat of his heart. It all seemed some wonderful dream that he was sure to wake from at any moment. He was not used to having his desires catered to. His wants never accounted for. A life of subjugation and duty did not prepare him for something as simple, and cherished as asking for the love of the one he held above all others and having that love returned.

“For eternity, Ma Vhenan.”


End file.
